


Chasing Kisses

by shipwreckinabottle



Series: Leather and Darkness [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Suicide Squad (2016)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Kisses, Romance, Saving Turtles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-05
Updated: 2016-08-05
Packaged: 2018-07-29 13:26:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7686244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shipwreckinabottle/pseuds/shipwreckinabottle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time they kissed, she’d argue it was nothing more than an accident, really.<br/>The second time they kissed, she'd been thinking about it for quite a while.<br/>The third time they kissed, she wasn’t breathing, and there was a lot of tongue.<br/>The fourth time they kissed, she thought it was their last.<br/>The fifth time they kissed, he was technically Bruce Wayne.<br/>The sixth time they kissed, was the first time he actually kissed her back. </p><p>Or the five times she kissed Batman, and the one time Bruce Wayne kissed her back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chasing Kisses

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is one of those 5+1 stories. 
> 
> I just saw Suicide Squad today morning and couldn't resist writing this. Bruce and Harley had like a... 5 second (?) scene together? But I was so inspired by it, well... here's the results.

**The first time they kissed, she’d argue it was nothing more than an accident, really.**  
  
They were scuffling in the mud, and she was kicking and screaming and trying all she could to escape. He had a tight grip on her, but she was coated in dirt and in mud; it made her slippery, and they were struggling and rolling and falling across the other. She tried to head-butt him at some point, aiming straight for his nose, but he saw it coming and swung out of the way. She pushed back, and he pulled forward, and for the briefest of a second, she felt the soft grazing of their nearing lips.   
  
She blinked, and the second of hesitation was all that he needed – her world spun, and she was suddenly pinned to the ground, her hands quickly cuffed to a nearby pipe. It took her a second to gather her thoughts, to make sense of what just happened. It wasn’t at all like when she kissed her puddin’, there were no visible fireworks, no loud explosions. There were no butterflies in her stomach, and her heart certainly did not flutter at their kiss.

He tasted of leather and darkness – it was different, but what conflicted Harley the most, was that she did not find it unpleasant at all.

* * *

 **The second time they kissed, she'd been thinking about it for a while.**  
  
Harley didn’t tell her puddin’ that, of course – but it had been nagging at the back of her mind for quite some time. Kind of a like a persistent ache that just wouldn't go away. She tried to distract herself from such thoughts, going on an all-city crime spree with her darlin’ - and they had a good run too, until finding themselves eventually cornered by the police.  
  
She wanted to go down in a puff of sparkles and blood, but instead, her puddin’ grabbed her and kissed her, long and hard, with his hands in all the right places – and pushed her. She stumbled into the group of policemen, and with them distracted, he ran off in the opposite direction.  
  
He had used her as bait. She was fuming, but she didn’t blame him, not entirely. He had his flaws, but she loved him nonetheless, and it included all of his self-destructive tendencies, irregardless of how much they hurt her too. He wasn’t waiting at their usual spot, and night had long fallen since her escape.

It meant she had to walk all the way home herself.  
  
So she did, covered in dirt and grime, her mascara running down her face, her favorite pair of fishnets torn bloody. Her baseball bat dragged noisily across the deserted roads as she staggered her way home, one tired step after the other. She was exhausted, and her left leg was killing her. When she pressed her hand to her calf, it came away bloody.  
  
She wanted to stop and cry, but she couldn’t, so she just sniffled and pushed on.  
  
It must have been at least two more hours of walking when she heard the familiar – and terrifying – roar of an approaching engine. She felt her heart drop, and she stopped completely in her tracks, waiting still as the bat mobile came to an eventual stop right where she stood.  
  
She stared at it, and the monstrosity stared right back. Its windows were completely tinted black, and she couldn’t make out its lone occupant, or if it even had one. She wouldn’t be surprised if the vehicle was possessed by a bat demon, it would certainly explain the roar it made.  
  
Normally, this was where she’d make a playful jab, or a terrible pun, or maybe even take a swing or two with her baseball bat. But tonight, she was just too tired to do anything else.  
  
“What?” she sighed, expecting him to throw her in cuffs and drag her down to Arkham. “Just get on with it.”  
  
It was quiet for a long while. She remained glaring in his direction until the vehicle’s roof finally started to retract. He emerged, and in the moon’s glare, he was as menacing as a creature in the dark. But she wasn’t afraid, not one bit. She knew – though she was unsure as to how – but she just knew, he wouldn't hurt her.  
  
His eyes fell onto her, and like just noticing her disheveled state for the first time, something about him… _softened._  
  
“Get in,” he said, his voice as gruff and as mean as the first day they met.  
  
She did so obediently, eyes widening in amazement at all the little buttons and gadgets inside the bat mobile. She attempted to reach for the closest red button, but he made a disapproving grunt, with eyes that threatened to throw her out were she to touch something she shouldn’t. So as much as she wanted to, she didn’t.  
  
He drove her home that night. Not home exactly, but she told him to drop her off at the docks, it was near one of her safe-houses. She assumed the main reason he sent her home safely was so she could lead him to the Joker, but she didn’t care, not that night.

They stopped at the docks and the roof retracted again.

“Get out,” he said, and beyond the three words he said that night, he gave her nothing else.  
  
She hopped out into the freezing weather, especially careful of her injured leg. The night was chilling, and her hands were wrapped almost pathetically around herself. She looked at him miserably, half wishing that he would offer her a jacket of his own – after all, he did send her home, and from all the lovey dovey romantic movies she loved so much, the jacket scene was all but guaranteed next.    
  
However, he remained his usual self, completely silent and utterly stoic, and so, she left – until he said her name. Her heart stopped, and she turned happily in his direction, half expecting him to pull onto her wrist and spinning her into his arms.

But instead, he just stood there, her baseball bat held in his hands.  
  
She had forgotten – and he was just returning it to her.  
  
She approached him and took the bat away, and as he started to leave, she reached suddenly in his direction, praying that his suit wouldn’t electrocute her like all the previous times it did. It didn’t, and her hands curled softly around the bottom of his mask.  
  
He stopped, and she was trembling. Not from the pain, nor the cold. Then she pulled, and she tiptoed, and their lips came together.  
  
It wasn’t anything spectacular, but it was more than enough to put a smile on her lips after the horrendous day she had, and more than enough for her to forget about her bat as it clattered noisily to the below floor.  
  
Then she left, and like her leg had already recovered, skipped all the way back to her puddin’.

* * *

 **The third time they kissed, she wasn’t breathing, and there was a lot of tongue.**  
  
The bright purple car shot straight into the river, with both its occupants and the bat in heavy pursuit. He dove into the water after them, his breathing apparatus allowing him enough air to dive for the river’s depth. The Joker was long gone, but his companion was still there, unconscious in the passenger’s seat.  
  
He swam to her, cutting her free from the mangled wreckage, pulling her all the way back to shore. He laid her down on the dirty asphalt and checked her pulse – it was still there, but weak, and she wasn’t breathing at all.  
  
He started with chest compressions, before parting her lips and breathing air into her mouth.  
  
She did not react during the third try. Neither did she the fourth. But he persisted, and on the fifth, there was suddenly tongue.  
  
She kissed him back, ferociously, and when he tried pulling away, her hands reached behind him and pulled him ever closer.  
  
He stuck a needle into the side of her neck, and as she slowly fell unconscious, the last thing she whispered, was – “my hero…”

* * *

**The fourth time they kissed, she thought it was their last.**

They were trapped in a burning building, and it was partly her fault – partly.  
  
Her puddin’ had set off the explosive charges they’ve placed around the building. She was supposed to leave with him, but she saw a box of turtles in one of the executive offices, and she just couldn’t bear the thought of them being burnt alive.  
  
She saved them, right as the charges went off – the explosion knocking her to the ground, and she watched helplessly as a pillar threatened to topple over her. It fell – and he came at the last possible moment, tackling her out of harm's way ending up right in the center of the pillar’s path.  
  
When the dust cleared, he was lying there in a pile of rubble, completely still. He wasn’t moving at all. She thought he was dead, and while she knew she was supposed to be happy, she felt the complete opposite – there was a sudden hollowness in her chest, a void she couldn’t quite explain.  
  
She ran to his side, her hands pummeling into his chest.  
  
He didn’t kick her away, he didn’t throw a batarang in her direction, he didn’t tell her to stop in that usual mean voice of his. Instead, he just laid there, lifeless and cold. She fell to his chest, tears streaking down the side of her face.  
  
Then, she kissed him.  
  
She didn’t believe in fairytales and happy endings, but just for once, Harley wished she was a princess, and her kiss was magical enough to bring him back to life.  
  
_“Get off me, Harley.”_  
  
He was alive, and happiness blossomed in her chest.  
  
He tapped onto his wrist pad, and she heard the whirling of gears inside his suit, just before he broke himself free from the rubble.  
  
He asked her to stay close to him afterwards, her tiny arms wrapping around his ribs as he shielded her underneath his comfortable cape. It protected her from the fire – the turtles too – and they quickly escaped in one piece.  
  
She did not resist when he brought her to Arkham, it was after all, mostly her fault the building fell. But it was the guilt that got her most, the guilt that threatened to consume her whole when she saw him lying there, when she thought he was dead.  
  
At least they allowed her to keep the turtles.

* * *

 **The fifth time they kissed, he was technically Bruce Wayne.**  
  
_Entertainment News Headlines: Bruce Wayne – Gotham’s most eligible bachelor? Voted most kissable lips of 2016! It’s your chance to be dazzled by his gaze, to melt in his arms!_  
  
“Guaranteed to have you melt in his arms?” Harley exclaimed, not quite believing this most preposterous article. They weren't popsicles. If Bruce Wayne had the ability to melt women with just his kisses, then he was definitely a metahuman, perhaps one even more dangerous than her and puddin’ combined.  
  
Still, she was curious, and she desperately needed to sate her curiosity. It had been a long year since she last kissed the Bats – and he seemed to be avoiding her nowadays, and nothing else compared – or even came close, to what he made her feel.  
  
Maybe if Bruce Wayne was as good as they said – he could help distract her from her annoying daydreams. He could help turn her back into a proper functioning villain.  
  
He was driving back to the mansion when she struck – or more like stood in his path and hoping he would stop before crashing into her at eighty miles an hour. It sounded like a good plan before, but then again, most of her plans were known to fail. She was more of a wing-it-girl.  
  
Luckily, he swerved in time, stopping right before tearing through a nearby railing.  
  
She walked to the driver’s side and tapped her pistol against the windscreen. It wasn’t loaded of course, but he didn’t know that.  
  
He rolled the window down, and she leaned inside the car, a playful smile upon her lips.  
  
“What do you want?” he asked, and there was something just so familiar about his eyes – all dark and gloomy, but she couldn’t place a finger, or hammer, on where exactly had she seen it.  
  
_On the television, most likely._  
  
Instead of replying his question, she simply held up the page she torn from the entertainment magazine.  
  
His eyebrows rose in a most curious manner.  
  
She waved the gun in his face. “Kiss me, or else.” And so, he did.  
  
He undid his seatbelt, allowing him more space to tilt forward, his hand sliding round the curve of her neck. He kissed her patiently, not as passionate as her puddin’, but slow, with care and with warmth. He beckoned with his lips, and she succumbed entirely.  
  
She did not melt in the literal fashion, but suddenly, she understood completely what the article meant.  
  
“You’re a great kisser, Bruce,” she said afterwards. “But,” a tiny smile crossed her lips, “I’ve had better.” It was evident there was someone else on her mind. “Good effort though.”  
  
Bruce Wayne might be the world’s greatest detective, but he had no idea just how wrong could he be – when he thought she was referring to the Joker.

* * *

 **The sixth time they kissed, was the first time he actually kissed her back.**  
  
He was hosting a charity function at WayneCorp that night, when Black Masks’ henchmen suddenly attacked. The attendees were rounded into the conference hall under gunpoint, forced to be parted from their valuables. Two gunmen remained, while the rest started drilling into the secured vault below.  
  
They were expecting diamonds or riches of some kind, but Bruce Wayne did not own diamonds. In his vault however, were the blueprints and prototype builds for his newest batwing. He couldn’t let them get to the blueprints, but his hands were tied, both literally and figuratively. He couldn’t take out the two henchmen, not when the hall was filled with people.  
  
However, something most unexpected happened.  
  
The large cake sitting by the side of the room turned suddenly into an explosion of glitter and cake. The two henchmen went to investigate, and when they came within hammer-range, Harley Quinn made her entrance known – she jumped out from the cake, gleefully swinging her hammer in their direction.  
  
It took her just seconds to knock both the men out. Then she kicked the nearby door open and asked everyone to leave. No one moved, until she swung at a nearby case, loudly shattering the glass display. Someone screamed, and there was a mad scramble to leave.  
  
Within seconds, the two of them were alone once more.  
  
“What were you doing in the cake, Harley?” he asked, like it was the most casual of things to bring up.  
  
“I wanted to rob you first,” she pointed towards the unconscious men and pouted, “but they stole my chance.”  
  
“Thank you anyway,” he said, “but you should leave, the authorities should be here soon.”  
  
“Okay,” she smiled, “but you’re not going to let them take away all our fun, right? I did make everyone leave just so you can change.”  
  
“Change?” he asked.  
  
“Really, Brucie?” she planted her hands on her hips and huffed disappointedly. “I’m crazy, not stupid.”  
  
“How…” he seemed visibly shaken for a brief second, before regaining his complete composure. “How long have you known?”  
  
“For quite some time now,” she shrugged. “But mostly since the night I asked you to kiss me. You have this… taste. Of leather and darkness. It’s weird and I can’t really put it into words. But I like it… very much.”  
  
They heard approaching footsteps, and he pinned her suddenly to the wall, a finger held to his lips. “They have guns,” he whispered, and she nodded, but she wasn’t really paying attention, not when he was so close, and so deliciously smelling.  
  
He was trying to make note of the gunmen’s position, but she was too distracting. Her body curved into his, and he could smell her, an intoxicating mix of strawberries and cake. Her eyes fell to his lips, and her very own, just inches away – quivered in anticipation.  
  
“Well,” she whispered, her eyes slowly fluttering to a close, “are you going to kiss me?”  
  
And for the sixth time, he did, but it was the first time – he truly did, and it was a lot better than he imagined.  
 

**Author's Note:**

> I know the fifth time was as Bruce Wayne, but he was still trying to conceal his identity, so it's more Batman than Bruce. Just hush... and let it be ~


End file.
